#the bann's duchess

[sjsmith56]

The Flame Burns From Within, Part 2 - Secret Wedding

Summary: An attack on the King forces Lord Barnes into undergoing the wedding with Lady Arden in secret, before any of the banns have been read.

Length: 4.9 K

Characters: Lord Barnes, Lady Arden, Ser Anthony, Lady Stark, HRH Steven Rogers, Ser Samuel Wilson, Garrison Commander Barton, Father Bruce.

Warnings: Minors DNI - contains sexual content not suitable for readers under the age of 18, loss of virginity, death of family members, revelation of true identity, women seen as property of their husbands.

Author’s notes: Weddings could proceed without the banns being read under the approval of the bishop. Acceptable reasons were the bride being pregnant (especially if she was of higher status), or the husband being called into battle. Lord Barnes was well within his rights to take Arden by force to consummate the marriage but I like my Bucky to be soft and sweet. The border below is from vecteezy.com.

<<Part 1

Part 2 - Secret Wedding

Lord Barnes

A banging on my chamber door roused me from my sleep and I pushed the curtain aside on the bed, then stumbled down the steps to find out who would wake me at this hour. I was surprised to see Ser Anthony, followed by the commander of my garrison, Barton. They stepped inside but we were soon joined by Steven and Samuel.

"My Lord," said Barton. "An attack has been made on the King. He is besieged in his country estate. The Queen, the Duke's mother and the Duchess Margaret escaped by the efforts of our inside man and the Queen’s guard, then rode for an hour to the Citadel to alert you. The attackers wore no insignia, but her guard recognized several of Pierce's men amongst a host of sell swords." He looked gravely at Steven. "Your father and older brother are dead, killed in the first attack, your Highness. You are now the heir to the throne."

"We must go," said my friend, his face already betraying his anger at this development.

"Then I must marry, immediately, and consummate the marriage," I replied. I looked up at the ceiling, wishing I had the night sky above me so that I could feel less constrained. "If they were so bold as to attack the King, we are all under threat. Barton, rouse the garrison and send them to the aid of the King."

"Already done, my Lord," he said. "I took the liberty of sending riders to the other aligned Houses, and two others to the Northman, Lord Odinson. He has always had the greatest respect for the King and has openly pledged his support against any usurpers."

"You did well, Barton," I replied, extending my forearm to him in thanks. "Return to the Citadel with the Duke and protect the Queen, the Duke's mother, and the Duchess. Steven, let me keep Samuel here as witness to the marriage and to accompany me back in the morning. Do you wear the chain now?"

"Aye," he said, reaching inside his night shirt and pulling out a chain with a ring on it. He took it off, handing it to Samuel. "I'm sorry not to be here as your witness. Marry Lady Arden. Ser Anthony, we signed the agreement last night but in light of this development do you object to sending for a priest to perform the marriage in secret?"

"No, not at all. He is but a short ride away. We can keep Arden safe here and Lord Barnes can send for her when there are enough men to escort her to the Citadel."

There was no time to be lost, not even enough time to dress as I quickly washed my face. I had hours to marry, claim my rights as husband, then leave for battle. If I had the favour of all the gods, not just the one, Arden would carry my child from this night, securing all our futures. If not, then I never had their favours to begin with.

Lady Arden

A hand on my mouth woke me and I fought against it, but my aunt's voice stayed my struggles.

"Put your robe on and come with me," she whispered. "We have little time to get this done."

"What's happened?" I asked, as I rose from under the covers, only to have her slip one of my arms into the sleeve of my robe. "Where are we going?"

She helped the other sleeve on then placed her hand on my cheek, gently.

"It wasn't supposed to happen this way, but we have found something out and have to act now. You're going to marry Lord Barnes in a few moments, then consummate the marriage in his bed."

"Now?"

I must have still had sleep fogging my brain. Did she say I was getting married now?

"Arden, there is much we haven't told you, in order to keep you safe over the years. Did you ever wonder why your uncle refused all offers for your hand, except for this one man?"

"He always said it was so I would be happy with the one man who would treat me as his equal."

I could hear her smile in the dark. "Anthony would say that, but it is more. You are more important than you'll ever know but we've run out of time to explain it all to you before you marry. Please, trust me. You are as much a daughter to me as the daughters I bore your uncle. Never once, has he complained about not having a son, when it was well within his rights to annul our marriage and find someone younger to give him a male heir. But he loved me and wanted the same for you and more."

She was pulling me along one of the secret passages in the castle, so obviously did not want the servants to be aware of what was happening. Illuminated only by the placement of small windows that let in the moonlight, we arrived at the door into the chapel, and she pressed on a panel that opened it. Inside, dimly lit by several large and well-placed candles were my uncle, Lord Barnes, Ser Samuel, and a priest I recognized as Father Bruce. Nervously, I gathered my robe around me, covering my night chemise, which wasn't of very thick material. If the moonlight coming through the stained-glass windows landed on that fabric it would have revealed more than what was considered acceptable in polite company. It seemed almost sacrilegious being here, dressed in this manner, but everyone, except the priest were also in their nightclothes. So, I wasn't the only one suddenly awakened in the dead of night.

"We're all here, Father," said my uncle. "It must be done now."

"Very well, Ser Anthony. There will be questions asked by the Bishop about the secrecy of the wedding. What shall I say?"

"As much as it pains me to say this, if you are asked, your answer is that the good name of Lady Arden is in peril as she may be with child," said Lord Barnes, looking solemnly at me. "It has been used in the past in similar situations and although it may cast aspersions on her character, I believe she is strong enough to bear the gossips. Once I publicly acknowledge her as Lady Barnes, it will silence the naysayers. You may also state that I was called to battle to defend the King. We will still go through the motions of reading the banns three times and performing an official ceremony, but our connection must be formalized from this moment on."

"Face me then, and let's get this done."

I stood beside my husband-to-be and Father Bruce began the marriage ceremony. When it came time for me to receive the ring symbolizing our union, Ser Samuel removed a chain from around his neck, on which a ring rested. Breaking the chain, he handed the ring to Father Bruce, who regarded it with wonder, then looked at Lord Barnes, who nodded. Blessing the ring, he handed it back to my almost husband, whose words as he placed the ring on my finger would bind us together in holy matrimony.

"You are blood of my blood, and bone of my bone." He was saying the old vows, those spoken before the Church became powerful. "I give you my body, that we two might be one. I give you my spirit, until our life shall be done. We do not possess each other for we are both free, but this ring symbolizes that we will always be together, in our hearts, minds and bodies. Will you accept this promise of eternity with me?"

It was all on me now. Even though my uncle had agreed to the marriage, I still had the option to refuse Lord Barnes by not accepting the ring. Although the ceremony was being performed by a priest of the church, the fact that he stood there without protest as Lord Barnes invoked the old ways, was proof that something much greater than myself was going on. My aunt and uncle looked imploringly at me. The expression on Ser Samuel's face was neutral, although he seemed ready to spring into action at any moment. Then I looked up into the eyes of Lord Barnes. There was no expectation in them, just a level gaze that told me this truly was my decision and he fully accepted what it would be. I was free to assent to his promise and free to turn away. There would be no repercussions if I chose the latter.

"I accept."

The words came out of my mouth without hesitation, and he slid the ring onto my finger, then squeezed my hand before he kept it in his own, as we faced the priest for the final blessing. He pronounced us man and wife, and we kissed to seal the promise.

"We leave when you are ready," said Ser Samuel. "I wish you had more time with your bride, Buck."

"I will have eternity, if we are successful," he replied, then offered his forearm to the man, who took it in return.

My aunt and uncle kissed me on the cheek. My aunt, who had already talked to me of the ways of men and women in the privacy of their bed chambers, smiled encouragingly at me. Then my husband was leading me through the passageway to his chambers. He said nothing as we went through the moonlit passage, until we found the right door and he pressed his hand on the panel that opened it. Leading me inside, he let go of my hand to make sure the panel on the inside was secure then faced me.

"Your aunt has prepared you for this moment?" he asked.

"She has," I answered.

"We must consummate the marriage before dawn. It doesn't leave us much time. It was not how I envisioned our wedding night."

"It is my Lord's right to take that which is his," I said, knowing the law of the land.

He shook his head. "Do you think so little of me that you assume I am like them? I wished to do this properly, with the reading of the banns, bringing you to my home to meet my family, to learn more about you and you about me, to allow the formation of something between us that was more than obligation or duty. Arden, you don't know what you are, do you?"

I could feel my temper flare. I knew exactly what I was. "I am a maiden bride, suddenly married in the middle of the night to a man I only met less than two days ago, a man my uncle has insisted is the only one whose offers for me he would entertain. When my parents died, I became the responsibility and property of my uncle, who raised me to believe I was equal in a land that doesn't see me that way. Now I am your property, and you may do with me what you will. Regardless of your words, that is the truth."

"Your parents were murdered, and Ser Anthony is your godfather, not your uncle," he said bluntly. "The wasting disease was the explanation given to scare off any potential interest in you by those who didn't have your best interests at heart. It also protected you from the people who killed your family. We may have only just met, but we were betrothed shortly after your birth, when I was barely out of childhood myself. Our marriage was foretold by those who see beyond what is visible to most. That ring, is your mother's wedding ring." I looked at it, not comprehending exactly what he was saying. "It was taken from her forcefully by the removal of her finger, before she was killed, and it was given to the man who ordered your parents' death. It took us a long time to recover it. Even now, he is unaware that we have it, and that it now graces the ring finger of the Flame of the Forest, like it did her mother, Lady Forrest of the House Forrest."

Gently, he took me by the hand and led me to a beam of moonlight, bright in its intensity, then placed my hand in the middle of the beam where I saw my mother's ring for the first time since I was a child. It was hers; I knew it without a doubt for the intricate design that was engraved on it was something that had fascinated me then. The moonlight made the design stand out and shine.

"It marks you as a descendant of the long dead kings and queens who once ruled these lands just as the one God became known and followed. Your power is ancient and deeply rooted. A battle is coming. It's already begun, due to an attack on the King which has killed his first two heirs, leaving the Duke as the next in line. That is why we have done this and is why once I have fulfilled my duty as husband, I must leave you right after. By marrying you now I have aligned myself, and by extension the royal house, with your lineage. If our joining tonight results in the creation of a child, then more than my line is secure. It's possible this is the only time we have together as I may die in the coming days."

Those blue eyes gazed at me in the dark, but the blue was barely visible. Instead, they showed only the dark pools of his pupils. It was a look unfamiliar to me, but it still made me feel warm inside, as I felt the stirrings of desire within me. He still had not touched me here in our bedchamber other than by my hand, not even a chaste kiss. His intent was clear. Nothing between us would happen without my consent and my initiative. I was truly sovereign, free to take this man as my husband, or not, even now after the ceremony had been performed. Swallowing my nervousness, I removed my robe and stood in the moonlight, allowing the light from that silvery orb to illuminate my body through the thin fabric of my night chemise. Then I lifted it off over my head and stood before him, unclothed.

"Thou art beautiful," he whispered. "I will forever worship thee as the goddess thou art."

He removed his robe and nightshirt, revealing himself and the embers of desire within me grew into a flame, as I regarded his body. It was obvious he was strong, as his shoulders and chest were muscular and broad. A thick scar on his left arm was the only real blemish on his skin, although there were several other minor scars on his body. The ripples of muscle along his midsection were tantalizing me as they tapered down to where his manhood was ready to break my maidenhead. Every part of him seemed ready for battle and for a moment I feared that he would take me as his prize, in the way that plundering armies often do to the women in the lands they have conquered. Instead, he reached out to take my hand and kissed the palm, then the wrist above it, slowly drawing me closer to the warmth that radiated from his person. Even as his other hand circled my waist, caressing the skin of my back, he gazed at me, then kissed me with soft lips, that were almost pillowy as they rubbed against mine. As my lips parted to allow more of him to explore, both of his arms enclosed me within them, while he pressed his hips against mine. One of his firm thighs slid between my legs and I felt it against my sex, feeling a wetness that almost poured out of me. It certainly seeped out onto his leg, but he used it to his advantage, sliding it against that part of my womanhood that had suddenly awakened.

Breaking the kiss, he grasped my breasts, then mouthed them with his lips and tongue, drawing sounds out of me that I didn't know I was capable of making. Slowly, he kneeled, kissing more of my body down the way until he got to the apex of my thighs and pressed his face into the most private part of my body. Briefly, he paused, to look up at me, as a supplicant would look up in worship.

"Do you wish me to stop?"

I shook my head, then gasped out a "no," and he resumed his exploration of me, bringing small cries out of my throat as I fought against a rising tide of something I had never experienced. He paused again and this time he invoked his right as husband.

"Don't fight it. Accept it."

Obeying his command, I gave myself over to that which was coiling within me. After a few moments of the resumption of his efforts, it snapped, and a rush of white heat went through me, making my legs shake as my body felt weak all over. He supported me, grasping my bottom then he rose to face me and kissed me deeply again, only now there was a taste on him that was almost obscene as I knew it was from the wetness that came out of me. Yet, it seemed right, almost sacred.

"Come to the bed," he murmured, tugging gently on my hand again.

My legs, still weak, almost stumbled and he picked me up with no effort, carrying me up the wooden steps to his bed, the curtain still open and the covers of which were still tossed aside from when he had been hastily awakened. Laying me in it, he joined me, intertwining our legs, as he caressed other parts of me. His skin was warm and surprisingly soft for a man who was also a soldier. The various scars on his body, remnants of earlier battles, were explored by my fingertips, almost as if my hands wanted to remember what they were touching.

"What happened to me?" I asked. "I've never felt like that before. It was not something my aunt prepared me for."

"No, it's not something easily described," Lord Barnes answered, still touching me. "It's something that many have been taught is sinful. The church reduced the act of the giving of pleasure to another as not in keeping with God's command to be fruitful and multiply. As if one has anything to do with the other. What you felt was the coming, and I was honoured at being the first to gift it to you." He took my hand in his and kissed the fingertips, then placed them on his chest. "I also enjoy your touch upon me, anywhere you wish to touch, with your hands or your mouth."

Even though my aunt had told me that, it was something I was still unsure of. Hesitantly, I traced around the pebbled nipple on his chest with my fingertip, hearing his breathing change at my touch. Then I leaned forward and did the same with my tongue, feeling and hearing the groan that came from his throat at that moment. Somehow, I knew that he wished for me to touch elsewhere, and I slid my hand down his side to his hips and over the rounded muscle of his backside. Once more he pressed his hips into mine and I felt the hardness of his manhood against the wetness that was still evident. His lips were on my breasts again, bringing that feeling of desire back. Except now, it was also a feeling of emptiness inside me, of wanting to be filled up by his presence. My hand moved from where it rested on the back of his thigh to just inside his hip, almost touching the part of him that was ready to join with me.

"Just be gentle at the start," he murmured, already knowing my intent. "It is sensitive to touch, but I long to feel your hand on it."

"My Lord," I whispered.

"No, not here, not when we're alone like this." He raised himself over me, grasping my chin in his hand so that our faces were close to together. "In public we will follow the expectations of others but in here, we are ourselves, just a man and a woman. Say my name."

"James," I stammered. "James, what do I do with ... it?"

He smiled, then kissed me, a deep kiss that stirred the fire in me to burn brighter again.

"Caress it, trace its parts with your fingertips or tongue, taste it, whatever you feel right about doing will be more than enough. I promised my body to you. No other woman will ever touch it as you do now. There shall be no mistresses, no one who will ever take your place in our bed."

I did as he suggested and gently took him in my hand, surprised at its hardness yet how velvety soft the skin of it felt. The look on his face showed how enjoyable it was for him. The touch and taste of all of James, brought that feeling back into my body and I found myself writhing against him, desperate to experience the release I felt earlier. Grasping himself, he spread my legs at the knees, then lined his manhood up to slide it into me.

"This will hurt at first," he whispered while he kissed my face. "I will go slow for you, but the first time is usually hard for the woman to bear. Forgive me, beloved."

It did hurt even though his first thrust was gentle and slow, but as he continued his efforts it also released something from deep within me, a sensation that I hadn't known existed until this man, my husband, enlightened me. It was overwhelming and I moaned loudly with the pleasure I felt. Those moans became cries of ecstasy as I felt the coming again, and my whole body seized in a long moment of bliss. James also did the same and I felt heat erupt inside me as his seed filled me. Slowly, he ceased his thrusting then withdrew from within me. Although there was discomfort, the lack of his presence was sorely felt and I clung to him, wanting more. Gently, he kissed my lips, then my neck, before laying beside me and draping his arm and leg over me. I wanted only to remain in his arms for as long as possible, to feel his warm skin on mine, his breath in my hair, and his touch upon me.

"Are you pleased, my love?" he asked softly, as he continued to caress me. "It was not too painful an experience?"

"Is that how it is for all marriages?"

I was still barely able to breathe normally. His smile was felt on my cheek.

"No, only those who have something more between them," he murmured. "Most marriages are made for reasons that have nothing to do with love, and this act of consummation is performed without tenderness or care. Even our betrothal was made for strategic purposes but when I first saw you, I felt a stirring in my heart that I had never felt before. If your parents had lived, we would have met when you were of marriageable age and would have been allowed to become close before the banns were officially read. When it became necessary to hide your identity, I kept away to protect you."

"I know the houses of Pierce, Walker, Rumlow, and Dreykov all offered my uncle ...."

I stopped speaking as he wasn't my uncle, not truly. James must have sensed my disquiet as he caressed me and kissed my head again.

"Even though he was but your godfather he willingly accepted you into his family and raised you according to your father's wishes. I think you can continue to think of him of as your uncle for he certainly did all he could to keep you safe, especially from those Houses. Since it might be a while until I can send for you, it is necessary for you to continue referring to him in that way."

"Can I not return to the Citadel with you?" I didn't want to be separated from James, not now that I knew he was sincere in his love for me. "Surely, I would be safe there."

"You would be, but I can't guarantee that you would make it there, with only Sam and me to protect you. Those houses you named ... are the houses who are behind the attack on the King. I came to claim you as my bride because a spy we have in Pierce's estate, told us that he knows your true identity. Now that we have consummated our marriage, he cannot legally force you into a marriage with one of his sons or nephews." He shifted and turned my head towards him. "You cannot ride in the forest alone anymore. I detest having to ask you not to go there but I fear if you do, he will kidnap you and hold you for ransom."

"It sounds like you believe he will try regardless." He looked down then nodded at the truth of my words. Pulling away from James, I laid with my back to him. "So, I am to be held here until you decide when to let me come to you."

"It's only because of the attack on the King, Arden." He placed his hand on my back. "It has changed everything. I'm sorry."

I didn't answer, as I was still caught between betrayal, anger, and a profound sense of dismay. As soon as he left, I would be a married woman, without the presence of my husband, but possibly a target of an ambitious man who sought the throne for himself. My life, which had been certain just two days ago, was now unpredictable because of machinations that I knew nothing about until this past hour.

I felt the bedding shift as James pulled it aside and rose, pulling the curtain back on that side. A candle was lit, and I could hear him get dressed, then pack his saddlebags. He didn't rush, possibly hoping that I would acknowledge him in some way, but I was still angry that what should have been a momentous event in my life had been reduced to something undertaken clandestinely, as if it were to be ashamed of. Suddenly, he was there at the side of the bed I was in, pushing the curtain even further aside so that he could see me better. I rolled to the other side. A sigh escaped his lips as he stood, waiting for my acceptance.

"I hoped that you would grant me a farewell that would sustain me in the days to come," he said. "If I should fall in that time, you will be the Lady of House Barnes. It will all be yours. I meant what I said about respecting your rights and granting you your sovereignty. You had every right to stop the marriage during the ceremony and to refuse to complete the marital expectation of intercourse. I would have respected your choice. Not many men would. You are angry that I wish to protect you until a time when you are out of danger. So be it. I will take my leave, knowing that at the moment I needed your favour you gave me none. It will not dampen my love for you, dearest Arden."

With no response from me, he turned away and I heard the door open, then close. There was no sound after that until I buried my face in the pillow and cried at my own pride that kept me from giving my husband the respect he deserved. With a sudden regret I jumped out of the bed and hurriedly pulled my robe on, keeping it closed with my hand as I pulled the door open and ran barefoot down the stone stairs into the Great Hall. I continued out of the door into the courtyard in time to see James mount Soldier.

"Wait!"

He turned to see me and dismounted as I threw myself at him, not caring that my robe had opened or that my hair was askew. Pulling his riding glove off he touched my cheek gently, wiping away the tears that fell freely. He had such a look of gentleness on his face as he kissed me sweetly.

"Come back to me, James."

"As soon as I can."

He kissed me again, deeper this time, and mounted his horse, as I covered myself again. With a nod to my aunt and uncle, he and Ser Samuel rode out of the keep into the night. After the sound of the horses had faded the only sound were the sobs coming out of me as I buried my face in my hands. Then my aunt and uncle put their arms around me and led me back into the castle to my chambers. Covering me in a clean chemise, my aunt tucked me in, then sat with me and ran her fingers through my hair until I slept.

Part 3>>

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[ofandrastes]

andres trevelyan, dragon age verse

statistics.

FULL NAME Andres Maxwell Trevelyan.

NICKNAMES Dre, Trevelyan

RACE Human.

GENDER & PRONOUNS Cisgender male, he/him/his.

SEXUALITY Bisexual.

NATIONALITY Ostiwicker.

RELIGION Andrastian.

POSITIVE TRAITS Noble, Courageous, Disciplined, Humble

NEGATIVE TRAITS Impatient, Paranoid, Rigid, Headstrong

AFFILIATION Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor

skills & abilities.

CLASS Warrior.

SPECIALIZATION Templar.

WEAPON Greatsword.

biography via the keep

As the youngest child of the Trevelyan noble house, Andres grew up in the Free Marcher city of Ostwick and have enjoyed a life of privilege. With close family ties to the Chantry, and many relatives among the priesthood and the templars, Andres was always expected to follow a similar path in service of the Maker.

In 9:41 Dragon, several members of House Trevelyan attended a Chantry conclave seeking to put an end to the Mage-Templar War. Included among the delegation was the youngest child of Bann Trevelyan, who was sent to assist their relatives or, if a mage, formed a part of the Mage delegation.

additional headcanon

Andres was betrothed to Marcello Freyette, the second son of an Orlesian Marquis, an engagement borne out of political allyship and, later, love. Marcello was also present at the Conclave and, unfortunately, was one of the many killed. This devastated Andres greatly, though in the time passed since he's had little time to grieve -- the title of the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor, does not afford him that privilege. First, he must save the world, and then...

decisions under cut

EXPLORING THEDAS reached the inner sanctum, investigated the dwarven ruins, rescued troops from the avaar, helped refugees, did not gain cultists' allegiance, fairbanks revealed to be a noble, fairbanks defeated the freemen, closed the lake's rift in crestwood, imshael was slain, captured suledin keep, claimed griffon wing keep

OPERATIONS inquisition forces deployed regularly, sutherland's company wasn't formed, jecin and celeste married for love, contacted johi

THE WRATH OF HEAVEN inquisitor accepts being chosen by andraste

CHAMPION OF THE JUST inquisitor went to therinfal redoubt, templars leashed, ser barris is alive

IN YOUR HEART SHALL BURN player declared for order

HERE LIES THE ABYSS grey wardens rebuilt, warden contact left in fade

WICKED EYES AND WICKED HEARTS celene rules, reconciled with briala, empress celene lived, grand duchess florianne killed

WHAT PRIDE HAD WROUGHT morrigan drinks from the well, respected temple tradition & allied with guardians

DOOM UPON ALL THE WORLD leliana is divine

JUDGEMENTS AT SKYHOLD inquisitor was a recruiting judge

companions & advisors

DORIAN romanced, planned to return to tevinter, reconciled with his father.

BLACKWALL recruited and stayed, left prison as rainier

IRON BULL recruited, saved the chargers, tal-vashoth

CASSANDRA rebuilt seekers, discovered book of secrets

SERA recruited, killed harmond

COLE recruited and stayed, more human

SOLAS freed his friend

VARRIC tracked the red lyrium source

VIVIENNE gave snowy wyvern heart

CULLEN encouraged not to use lyrium

JOSEPHINE did favors for du paraquettes

LELIANA steeled

TRESPASSER disbanded inquisition, stop solas at all costs

SHIPPING in my canon gameplay, andres ends up with dorian but truthfully i can see him with anyone. he's a big romantic, and sharing his faith will most likely bridge that gap quicker than others, though he's not opposed to those who do not believe or have different beliefs. please keep in mind that andres, through my personal headcanon for him, is very much grieving the death of his fiancé, so that will be an obstacle to overcome.

CLOSED SHIPS: Dorian

TEMPLARS VS MAGES as a trevelyan, andres' ties to the templar order run deep and go back generations. at the beginning of the game he is less sympathetic to the mage's plight hence why he chooses to approach the templars to enlist. however, seeing as they are just as capable of being corrupted, he begins to soften his stance hence why he leashes them by the end of champon of the just. also, if he is romancing a mage, that helps him balance his opinions better as well.

ANDRASTIANISM andres grew up a devout andrastian, and i don't believe that changes by the end of the game. he does struggle with the notion of being the 'herald of andraste', however, torn between feeling like a fraud and wondering if he actually could have been chosen for this -- which then makes him question pretty much everything. however, by the end he's faith is reaffirmed, believing that although he may not have been a prophet chosen by the maker, he was set on this path toward victory for a reason.

[inky-duchess]

Hi Duchess! Hope you're well! I was wondering if you knew if the Bridgerton TV show's thing of "expected to marry in a month after proposal, but can get an allowance to get married in three days" thing is accurate? There's a lot of emphasis on it, especially in the first season, but now I'm on my rewatch. I'm wondering if it's accurate at all??

Usually you would wait a few weeks to be married, there was no limit how long am engagement could last. There would need to be timing for planning, for the review of the marriage terms and for everything to get hashed out, of course. Around this time one must wait until the banns (the public announcement of the marriage) were announced at least 3 times. However you could apply for a fast tracked license but these were almost impossible to get. Daphne and Simon's marriage is extraordinarily fast, seemingly taking place in a few days which probably wouldn't be accurate considering the sort of large wedding they have. Now, a simple trip down the aisle in a few days after a special licence? Plausible.

[partystoragechest]

Meet The Cast of 'Unwanted'

An introduction to some of the major characters featured in Unwanted, and the world state it operates in.

---

THE CHARACTERS

Lady Trevelyan of Ostwick

Whomever you wish her to be, with some caveats. Trevelyan was sent to Ostwick Circle by her parents at a very young age. She proved to be a skilled mage, and went on to assist in the storerooms, and teach lessons.

Due to her noble heritage, she was selected to attend the Conclave; however, for better or worse, she never made it. And, in the wake of the Breach and the re-ignition of the Mage-Templar War, Ostwick Circle had collapsed by the time Trevelyan found her way back. With nowhere else to go, she fled for her childhood home. However, she did not receive the welcome she had hoped for.

Her parents tried to find some use for her in marrying her off to advance their own status. With little success—likely due to her being a mage—they leapt at the opportunity to send her to Skyhold, and meet the Commander. Though he was not a noble, his regard within Orlais made him desirable, at least.

Because of the life she has lived, Trevelyan is deeply insecure about her worth. This often manifests as a propensity to give up; she assumes she will fail, even if she tries.

Baroness Clarisse Touledy, of Val Misrenne

Baroness Touledy is a slender Black woman, with black, braided hair that has jewel-like beads weaved into the plaits. She dresses in elegant outfits, which she matches with her cane.

Holder of her own title, Baroness Touledy is the sole ruler of Val Misrenne, a town north of Val Royeaux. Outside of Val Misrenne, she is known as a skilled player of The Great Game, managing to remain of import despite her small holdings. However, to her people, she is known to be a caring mistress, easily softened by the sadness of others.

Having met and been enchanted by the Commander at the Winter Palace peace talks, Baroness Touledy put her name forth for Lady Montilyet’s invitation. However, she travels to Skyhold not to impress the Commander, but for him to impress her.

Lady Tam Erridge, of West Coldon

Lady Erridge is a chubby white woman, with brown hair usually styled in ringlets. She dresses particularly femininely, with pastel colours and lots of bows.

The cherished only child of the Bann of West Coldon, she is terribly pampered—but this has not made her vain or spoilt. Lady Erridge is quite invested in the happiness of others, to the point of being distracted from her own.

She enjoys great friendship with the eldest child of the Bann of East Coldon, whom she left behind to come to Skyhold. Erridge has fallen for the Commander from description alone, and so her parents did all they could to have her enter the competition.

Lady Giles Samient of Samient, Daughter of Duke Samient

Lady Samient is a woman of average size, with light brown skin and long red hair. She prefers tight-fitted clothing, whether that be trousers or dresses.

Despite being of a high noble house in Orlais, Lady Samient is rather blunt in nature. Her direct speech and unguarded thoughts ought to make her a target of The Great Game—but Samient’s bluntness is wielded as a weapon, and she is feared among the nobility for her quick and clever mind.

As the only heir of Duke Samient and the late Duchess Samient, there has always been great pressure on Lady Samient to marry well, and preserve their bloodline. It is a curiosity, then, that she has been allowed to compete for the Commander’s affection.

Commander Cullen Rutherford, of the Inquisition

Commander Rutherford is a well-built man with white skin. He has straightened blond hair, and stubble across his jaw.

The Commander was raised in the village of Honnleath, in Ferelden, but left to become a Templar. He served at Kinloch Hold, and then at Kirkwall. After a string of what could charitably be called ‘disasters’, he joined the Inquisition as its Commander.

He garnered much attention while attending the Winter Palace in an official capacity for the peace talks. Tired of fielding inquiries and propositions from nobility ever after, he agreed to Ambassador Montilyet’s plan to invite a select group of noblewomen to Skyhold, so that they could meet him, be bored, and go home.

---

OTHER CHARACTERS

Here are some of the other important characters in Unwanted.

Lady Josephine Montilyet, Ambassador of the Inquisition

Lady Montilyet is an Antivan noble, highly skilled in diplomacy. Seeing her friend’s frustration after the Winter Palace, she sought to discourage the Commander’s admirers by inviting four of the more… sensible ones to Skyhold.

Dorian Pavus, Altus of Tevinter

Master Pavus is a terrifically skilled mage from Tevinter, and part of the Inquisitor’s inner circle. He is also friend to Commander Rutherford, and is highly amused by the ‘competition’. While haunting the library, he bumps into Lady Trevelyan.

Dagna, Arcanist of the Inquisition

Dagna is a dwarf, who studied among the Circles of Thedas, despite being unable to practice magic. As a result, she is a skilled enchanter and inventor of magical devices. Her usual assistant is away due to having given birth, and so Dagna is in need of new help.

---

THE WORLD STATE

‘Unwanted’ takes place in a world state in which a mage Trevelyan never became Inquisitor—but did not die at the Conclave, having been prevented from attending.

The Inquisition, in an effort to seal the breach, recruited Grand Enchanter Fiona and her rebel mages as allies. After the attack on Haven, they fled to Skyhold and prepared to attend the Winter Palace peace talks. Though it is implied in the story that this was a successful night, it is not stated what outcome the Inquisitor chose.

The Inquisitor is currently away in the Western Approach, investigating the Grey Wardens with Hawke and the Warden. The party they took consists of Blackwall, Solas, and Cole. Meanwhile, Cassandra, The Iron Bull, and Vivienne are away on their own mission. Dorian, Sera, and Varric have been left at Skyhold to conduct business.

___

If you'd like to read Unwanted, here's a link to the masterpost.

[stumblingsbalderdash]

The Bann’s Duchess: Chapter 1

    Art by Crystal Fae

                                   Chapter 1: An Auspicious Invitation

Fog loomed as far as he could see, it was almost tangible, shrouding everything in a thick white veil. Vincent could barely see the sunlight through the thick clouds just managing to keep his creme stallion on the beaten trail. According to the information  his brother , Marcus, had gathered not many would attempt this hazardous journey  the Moitessier’s estate. The estate, in question, was nestled deep in the forest of Dales only a few days journay from Halamshiral. 

Vincent knew the  immediate moment he crossed into the Moitesser’s borders, the sounds of birds and wildlife  that normally filled a forested region had all but vanished, even their heavy footsteps seem to disappear into the colorless fog. He couldn’t gauge how deep he had penetrated the overgrown forest or even how far the estate was from their present location. He bit down his bottom lip, tightening his grip on the reins urging his horse to continue their lengthy trek to the mysterious Orlesian estate. 

“The townsfolk say a witch cursed the Moitessiers, my lord.” A man’s voice broke the eerie silence that hovered over the riders.  “During the third blight, I believe,” the knight muttered almost unintelligibly, “cursed their sons to an early grave and their daughter’s into spiders.” the man mumbled as he carefully observed the blanketed treelines for signs of peril. 

“If that were the case, Brynn, than the Moitessiers lineage would have ended and we would not be attending this soiree.” Vincent chuckled, acknowledging  his companion’s foreboding notion.

“It would explain their family crest, the white spider.” Brynn continued to pondered, catching up with the nobleman. “What noble house would choose a spider for their heraldry?” He paused for a moment “ Or perhaps, The Moitessiers are witches themselves, you must admit this fog is unnatural and the estate…” he paused again glancing into the unnatural fog. “No, something isn’t right, I can feel it in my bones.” The man nervously glanced over at Vincent hinting at something nefarious. 

“Perhaps, we should refrain from calling our hosts spiders and witches, no?” Vincent chuckled, nodding his head towards inauspicious gate looming in the fog.

“If you say so.” Brynn gave a hushed response, adjusting himself in his saddle, “Why did you accept their invitation, tis far from Ostwick, my lord.” The man curiously inquired as they reached the colossal gilded gate. 

“Trade with Moistessiers would increase my family’s fortune and boost our statues tremendously” Vincent slowed his horse as they closed their distance on the massive gate.  “It’s exceedingly hard to obtain a trade contract with this family due to their relation to Orlesian crown.” He paused as Sir Brynn caught up with him, “ With a successful trade pact, I could establish a tighter hold on the Trevelyan assets and, perhaps, even help Maxwell.” Vincent released a sad sigh, momentary reminiscing on his youngest brother’s circumstance. 

The white fog suddenly gave way at the entry of the gate, allowing the sun to drape over the carefully forged golden roses that adore it’s decorative bars. Two chevaliers were posted on  either side of it’s entrance,  their plate mail glistened brightly from the abrupt sun light. They adored white enameled masks, which did little to hide their surprise as they walked towards Vincent and his companion. 

“Invités, ici ?” Vincent could hear one ask the other on their cautious approach to the Free Marchers.  Vincent quickly raised his hands to assure the chevaliers he was unarmed and had peaceful intentions. However, his intentions seemed lost on the chevalier as the man grabbed Vincent’s reins halting his passage into the manicured garden just beyond the gate’s entrance.

“I was expected for a soiree, Grand Duke Moitessier is hosting.” He assured the guard, pulling a pristine letter from his mount’s satchel. The chevalier’s  brows furrowed under his mask and as he carefully examined the letter. 

“Yes, this is The Grand Duke’s seal and handwriting,” the guard gave a husky response, giving  Vincent a troubled glance. “However, the Moitessier family are not hosting a soiree, Bann Trevelyan.” 

Vincent felt himself instinctively tighten on his rein, “There must be a mistake, we’ve travelled a great distance.” He tempered his frustration with a short tisk, staring directly into the masked man’s cornflower eyes. 

“I’m sorry, The Moitessiers have not hosted any guest since her ladyship returned to the estate about 10 years ago.” The guard stated cooly, offering Vincent his letter, ready to return to his post. 

“We were invited by your Lordship, travelled from Ostwick and now you are turning us away at the gate?”  Vincent forcible measured his inquiry, masking his annoyance with their current situation. 

Suddenly, a loud rustling from the forest forced the guard’s response to stop, the man turned his attention from Vincent quickly reaching for his blade. 

Both Vincent and Brynn, turned their attention in the direction of the rustling sound inching closer to their position. The chevaliers tensed, withdrawing their blades as they slowly closed in the sound. Vincent turned his steed to face the mysterious noise reaching for his own blade just catching Brynn muttering  about something being off.  He could just make a light scratching noise as something hastily approached them from across the forest floor. 

He watched as the chevaliers hoist their heavy shields preparing for unsolicated ambush , closing the distance between them and the forest. Vincent felt himself tense up on the reins giving his guard a cue to prepare for someting unexpected. He could just make the foliage shivering, causing leaves to dislodge a fall to the damp ground. The chevaliers’ lifted their swords as a creature sprang from the fog covered forest. 

It toppled over it furry legs and quickly scuttled past the guards before halting in front of the nobleman. A fuzzy white spider stood transfixed at the sight of him, its legs stood unnaturally straight as it seem to stare directly into his eyes.  

It’s beady black eyes, flitted from him, the chevaliers, Brynn before return to him, with a human like curiosity. It was roughly the size of small lap dog, covered entirely white downy fur, and had several large ebony eyes that focused solely on him. It finally broke it’s eye contact with the noble before shifting it’s attention the back chevaliers. 

Vincent watched as spider rasped it feet against the ground before straightening it’s long legs returning it’s attention towards him. The guards seem to stiffen for a moment, lowered their shields slowly approaching the mounted noble. The spider stay a moment longer watching Vincent with intense interest before rapidly rushing in the grandeur garden. 

Vincent watched as the spider disappeared into the garden’s grotto of pale pink roses. He turned his attention back to the chevalier sheathing his blade as he approached the Vincent’s mount. As the man approached him, Vincent noted the a spider engraved in the middle of the chevalier’s enameled mask and the prominent spider splayed across the man’s pristine tabard. He briefly recalled the Moitessier odd choose in their crest, the white spider. Pondering for a brief moment if the Moitessiers simply had an odd taste in pets. 

“We apologize, Bann, for our aggressive display, there are large spiders and creatures lurking in The Dales.” The chevalier stated gruffly before giving Vincent access to the estate’s entry. 

“But, not that spider?” Vincent raised a suspicious eyebrow to the guard, feeling slightly unsettled by the spider’s presence. 

“No, Bann Trevelyan...that spider is a part of the estate.” The chevalier lips tightened as his whole body straightened as if  Vincent’s inquiry fundamentally insulted the guard. “Welcome to the Moitessier’s estate Bann Trevelyan, Antoinette will see you both to your rooms.” The man waved to his companion before returning to his post at the gate’s entry. 

“Just like that?” Vincent couldn’t help feel confused and skeptical at the sudden change in the guard’s demeanor or the oddity that occurred moments before.  Glancing over his shoulder, he motioned for Brynn to follow him into the grounds, even more uncertain about his auspicious invitation.  

A special thank you @sakurabunnie for letting me write Vincent <3 I hope you enjoyed the first chapter <3 (Also, Maxwell and Marcus belong to Bunnie too)

[daitranscripts]

Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts Pt. 6

Introductions to the Empress

Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts Masterpost First: Gaining an Invitation Previous: Enter the Winter Palace

Gaspard heads off as the Court Herald approaches and bows to the PC before guiding them to the ballroom floor.

Royal Herald: And now, presenting: Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. And accompanying him…

Herald (Qunari PC): Lord/Lady Inquisitor Adaar! Herald (Dalish PC): Lord/Lady Inquisitor Lavellan! Herald (dwarf PC): Lord/Lady Inquisitor Cadash! Herald (dwarf PC, ???): Lord/Lady Inquisitor Cadash! …Or possibly Inquisitor Gavron, Helmi, Aeducan, or Paragon Fancypants. [I do not know what triggers this.] Herald (human mage PC): Lord/Lady Inquisitor Trevelyan, of the Ostwick Circle of Magi! Herald (human non-mage PC): Lord/Lady Inquisitor Trevelyan, son/daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick!

The PC continues down the steps and across the floor as the rest of the Inquisition party is announced.

Herald (allied mages): Vanquisher of the rebel mages of Ferelden, crusher of the vile apostates of the Mage Underground! Herald (allied templars): Shepherd and leash of the wayward Order of Templars, purger of the heretics from the ranks of the faithful!

Party Comments:

Vivienne: Remember to smile. This is all for show, my dear.

Sera: He is so full of it! That’s not how it went.

Varric: This guy writes better fiction than I do.

Herald: Champion of the Blessed Andraste herself!

Gaspard chuckles.

Gaspard: Did you see their faces? Priceless.

Herald: Accompanying the Inquisitor:

Party Introductions:

Herald: Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena– Cassandra: Get on with it! Herald: … Pentaghast. Fourteenth cousin to the King of Nevarra, nine times removed. Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of the Divine.

Herald: Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, Enchanter of the Imperial Court, mistress of the Duke of Ghislain.

Herald: Renowned author Varric Tethras. Head of noble house Tethras, deshyr of Kirkwall to the Dwarves Merchants Guild.

Herald: Lord Dorian Pavus, member of the Circle of Vyrantium, son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel.

Herald: Warden Blackwall of Val Chevin, constable of the Grey. Bearer of the Silverite Wings of Valor.

Herald: The Iron Bull, leader of the famed mercenary company Bull’s Chargers. As the name might imply.

Herald (male PC): The Lord Inquisitor’s elven servant, Solas. Herald (female PC): The Lady Inquisitor’s elven serving man, Solas.

Herald: Her Ladyship Mai Bhalsych of Korse. Sera: (Snickers.)

(Cole has no introduction.)

Herald: Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath. Commander of the forces of the Inquisition. Former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall.

Herald: Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court. Herald (recruited in DA: O): Veteran of the Fifth Blight. Herald (romanced Warden, Warden rules with Alistair): Mistress to the Queen of Ferelden. Herald (romanced Warden, Warden rules with Anora): Mistress to the Prince Consort of Ferelden. Herald: Seneschal of the Inquisition and Left Hand of the Divine.

Herald: And Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City. Ambassador of the Inquisition.

The PC joins Gaspard on the steps below Celene.

Gaspard: Cousin. My dear sister.

Celene: Grand Duke. We are always honoured when your presence graces our court.

Gaspard: Don’t waste my time with pleasantries, Celene. We have business to conclude.

Celene: We will meet for the negotiations after we have seen to our other guests.

Gaspard: Inquisitor.

Gaspard bows and leaves.

Celene: Lord/Lady Inquisitor, we welcome you to the Winter Palace. Allow us to present our cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering would never have been possible.

Florianne curtsies.

Florianne: What an unexpected pleasure. I was not aware the Inquisition would be part of our festivities. We will certainly speak later, Inquisitor.

She turns and leaves.

Celene: You arrival at court is like a cool wind on a summer’s day.

Dialogue options:

General: It’s an honor. [1] +10 Court Approval (Vivienne in party)

General: The weather may turn foul. [2] +5 Court Approval

General: An assassin is here. [3] - 15 Court approval - Vivienne greatly disapproves

1 - General: It’s an honor. PC: I am delighted to be here, Your Majesty. Celene: We have heard much of your exploits, Inquisitor. They have made grand tales for long evenings. [4]

2 - General: The weather may turn foul. PC: Let’s hope the breeze does not herald an oncoming storm. Celene: Even the wisest mistake fair winds for foul. We are at the mercy of the skies, Inquisitor. [4]

3 - General: An assassin is here. PC: Someone here is working for Tevinter. Celene: To the uninitiated, the court is full of intrigues which might seem sinister, Inquisitor. But they are of little note. [4]

4 - Scene continues.

Celene: How do you find Halamshiral?

Dialogue options:

General: It’s lovely. [5]

General: I can’t do it credit. [6]

General: Call off the ball! [7]

5 - General: It’s lovely. PC: I’ve never seen anything to equal the Winter Palace. Celene: We hope you will find time to take in some of its beauties. Feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor. We look forward to watching you dance. [8]

6 - General: I can’t do it credit. PC: I have no words to suffice. Halamshiral has many beauties, and I couldn’t do them justice. Celene: Your modesty does you credit, and speaks well for the Inquisition. Feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor. We look forward to watching you dance. [8]

7 - General: Call off the ball! PC: You’re in danger. End the ball. Send everyone away. Celene: Inquisitor, we suspect that our court has overwhelmed you. You may benefit from a glass of wine and some time to recover. No doubt you will find something in the ball room to entertain you. [8]

8 - Scene continues.

The PC bows and leaves up the stairs. Leliana approaches them.

Leliana: Inquisitor. A word, when you have a moment.

She leaves.

Next: Speak with Leliana

[tessiete]

(art by @rcrisdraws)

AT LAST! It is done.

After ten months, and 200 000+ words I have at last finished my Year on the Run fic chronicling Satine's rise to power, and her romance with Obi-Wan.

It's been a huge part of my life, and I will get to the comments that so many wonderful people have left for me (seriously, the love and depth of engagement people have expressed for this fic has BLOWN ME AWAY. I'm forever grateful for that incredible support!!!) but in the meantime, let me say THANK YOU to everyone who has read along, and encouraged me, and held my hand.

Special thanks especially, to @treescape who listened to EVERY SINGLE chapter breakdown, discussed character motivations and arcs, pointed out holes and found solutions, and was really a guiding light the whole way through.

Thanks also to @pomiar and @the-last-kenobi who listened to be kvetch for WEEKS. Pom, who helped and still helps me figure out how to make it function as a complete novel, who was never afraid to point out something that was out of character, or demand much needed explanations for things that weren't always clear. Her vision is just SO acute and insightful! And TLK whose undying enthusiasm pushed me to the finish line. She's always eager to hear more, full of encouragement, and her utter faith in me was exactly what I needed.

The biggest thanks of all to the Obitine discord, and the wonderful people there. I wrote this to convince @duchess-of-mandalore that we don't need canon, to try and give @the-obiwan-for-me something HALF as wonderful as her fic (SSTW) gave to us, to make @mg024 laugh, and cry, and astonish her as much as she manages to astonish me. And for everyone else there who has been with me. It's for you!!!

You can find the whole thing HERE

And now, because I love process, here are some behind the scenes tidbits...just in case you were curious.

There really is nothing known canonically about "The Year on the Run" except:

1. It was "an extended mission when I was younger. Master Qui-Gon and I spent a year on Mandalore, protecting the Duchess from insurgents who had threatened her world. They sent bounty hunters after us. We were always on the run, living hand to mouth, never sure what the next day would bring."

2. They were attacked by venomites on Draboon

3. Obi-Wan carried Satine when they first met, and he dropped her which resulted in her getting a scar.

That's literally the entirety of what we know.

So, I had to expand on it A LOT.

The whole fic is a re-imagining of The 12 Labours of Hercules. What I didn't know when I started is there is no modern consensus on the morals/meanings of each task, so I had to do a bunch of research to find the most consistent interpretations, and then fill in the rest myself.

The hydra is represented by the nine bounty hunters that chase them the whole way throughout.

By rank: Aden Kast (meaning: wrath) - died by own hand Pre Vizsla - defected Jaro Spar (meaning: death wish) - arrested Bann Dryden (meaning: refuse) - killed by Qui-Gon Prudi Saxon (meaning: shadow) - deserted Paak Saxon (meaning: salt) - killed by Aden Kast Mirala Chorn (meaning: thoughtful) - disappeared Kyric Eldar (meaning: kill/end/death) - banished by DW Trikan Kelborn (meaning: sorrow) - killed by Bralor

Extra bonus: Hercules is eventually killed by the poisonous blood of the hydra, and so, this task is one that kind of defeats him. Pre Vizsla is that poison in Only Hope. He sides with Satine here out of cunning, ambition, and self-preservation, but later is her ruin.

Satine's big thing is pacifism, and it was important to me in telling this story that pacifism not be confused with passivity. And so, I spent a lot of time researching how pacifism as an ideology can be made practical. Of course, I looked to Gandhi.

Using the three pillars of pacifism, I expanded on them within the text to demonstrate just *how* Satine makes this ideology work. Mandalorians are warriors, and she is no different. Only she battles hate, fear, and prejudice instead of people.

Beyond the political philosophies at play, I also spent a lot of time translating things into Mando'a. At the beginning of the story, Obi-Wan does not speak the language, so until he learns it, his POV chapters were FULL of fluent Mando'a.

This meant that I had to make up a ton of idioms, mottos, and myths to fill out the world of Mandalore. Things like these:

I also made up war songs, and beer hall anthems:

Of course, sung by Obi-Wan

And new gods for the old Mandalorian religion:

And about a MILLION Mandalorian names: Nur, Naani, Jori Ast'Atin, Haati be'Murtin, Bralor, Paak & Prudi, Iviinya, Kih'sol, Ta-Ciryc, Bu'ataaka, Rang, Kyric, Trikan, Gamnyn, Kut, Bora-Gaan, and on and on.

And a million cities: Dalabiik, Meshurok, Chorus, Amancitia, Pohja, Jiilma, Antioch the Needles, blah blah blah

And a million words: kalesera, etyc'baar, bo'aka, koryai, etc.

And of course, it wouldn't be a SW story without a ton of Obi-Wan whump.

(art by the incredible @kyber-erso)

Anyway. That's all for now. Thank you everyone for your interest, and love, and support!

- tess

[kickingitwithkirk]

Beyond Seduction

Summary: Isobella Tennant wants her independence but society dictates she must conform to their ways. Sam Winchester is the most sought after artist in London and one of its most notorious rakes. He also has a secret he’s kept hidden. They come together with their own agendas and find something more than either expected.

Pairing: Artist!Sam Winchester x Isobella Tennant

Word Count: 3137

Warnings: Cursing, appearance shaming, low self esteem, dominating mother, attempted abduction and assault

A/N: for #OC Apprecation Day 2020 #OC’s are People Too

A/N II: Few months ago I came across a stash of old romance novels I’ve had for umpteen years when I had this idea for a series with Sam Winchester. I had been playing with for a while, getting nowhere, and one evening I was watching Thomas Kinkade’s Christmas Cottage with Jared Padalecki and viola Artist!Sam.    Not an original title but I liked the sound of it.

Part II Masterlist

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

London 1875

December 21

“Your daughter will marry my son by lent.” Arthur Ketch forcefully stated as he stood in front of the drawing room window.

“Of course Isobella will marry Ernest, but it’s impossible to do it that soon,” Lavinia Tennant, the Duchess of Monmouth huffed out, running her hand down the over skirt of her terre D'Egypte dress trying to hide nervousness running through her, “but she is the only daughter of the Duke of Monmouth, it will take at least a year to plan once the bannes have been read.”

“I have given you too much leeway already Lavi and will not have my son wait any longer,” Ketch said calmly, calling her the beloved nickname her husband gave her on their wedding night. Walking over and reaching out to stroke her cheek, watching with satisfaction as she trembled when he grabbed her arm instead, “or I will go to your husband about us.”

It wasn’t the first time he had inferred he would do it but there was something more in his tone this time.

Ketch’s roughness had been exciting, eliciting intense pleasures she had never felt and had come to crave. He was a far cry from her husband, who possessed a loving countenance and even temperament.

She couldn’t initially understand why Ketch hadn’t been accepted by their society. He was intelligent, charming and a Baron after all, even if the title had been bought by his father, who had been in the coal trade.

It was when she tried to end their affair his true intentions surfaced. Ketch had pursued her for the political advancement of his only son Ernest, who worked for Lavinia’s husband in Parliament.

Ketch planned to make his son Prime Minister of England and the Duke of Monmouth’s connections were his ticket. Blackmailing the duchess into forcing her only daughter Isobella to marry Ernest would solidify his position in society.

“I’ve instructed Ernest to propose again at your party in two weeks and she better not refuse him this time, you’ll make sure of that I have no doubt.” Ketch’s menacing tone said it all, he would follow through on his threat this time.

New Years Eve

“I hear he is indeed very talented,” Alexandra Pembrook informs her companion as they strolled into the library, stopping in front of the newly unveiled portrait of David Tennant, the Duke of Monmouth, “and not just as a painter according to Lady Vance.”

Isobella Tennant looked at her friend raising an eyebrow, “Since when do you listen to the idol gossip of Beatrice Vance? I thought you two weren’t speaking.”

“That juicy tidbit came by way of her ladies maid. Apparently, she overheard Beatrice telling Lady Lucas how her husband came home unexpectedly and almost caught them In flagrante delicto.”

“This is why I’m happy that I got Katie, she would never gossip about any goings on in this household.” Isobella firmly stated.

Katie had been her mother’s governess before becoming hers and then ladies maid after she was presented in society. Katie moved slower with age and hard of hearing so if anything scandalous was said in her presence, she’d never hear it anyways.

“I also heard he spent three months pursuing Lady De Burgh,” Isobella squinted slightly, trying to place the woman, “you know, Queen Victoria’s newest lady-in-waiting. Palace gossip is that he likes to savor his quarry like delicate morsels, bit by bit.”  She licked her lips in emphasis, “Too bad he didn’t see you when he was here, I’d bet my new phaeton he would’ve been more than up for the challenge of obtaining you.”

“Lexi!” Isobella gasped, using her best friend since they were both in pram’s nickname, trying to sound scandalized at the implication but grinned at her knowing the notorious Sam Winchester, who she only saw briefly once while her father was sitting for him, wouldn’t have noticed her even if he sat on her.

She did not possess the in favor looks like Lexi; golden blond hair, cornflower blue eyes and envious curves that were enhanced by the fashions of the day, that seemed to tempt him judging by his preferred quarry.

Isobella or Izzy, as everyone but her mother called her, had inherited her grandmother Tennant’s shock of long, thick, unruly copper gold hair, as did her four brothers, who at least had the fortune of being able to keep theirs shorn short, and pale skin covered in cinnamon freckles for days. What couldn’t be overlooked by anyone was, like her brothers, she was tall.

So tall in fact, she stood at least half a head and, in some cases, a full head taller than most of the men in their acquaintance. Her only redeeming qualities, according to her mother, was her title of Lady Tennant and the inheritance that came with it.

Despite being the plainest deb to enter society in years when she was eighteen, Isobella had a line of suitors and was greatly admired for her kindness, quick wit, and intelligence, especially in debate, having learned the skill at her father’s knee.

Now her admirers had drastically fallen away. It seemed what was admired in the girl wouldn’t be tolerated in the woman.

Isabella’s options were dwindling as she was no longer a blossoming flower in society, being just a few months away from turning twenty three.  

“Lexi, what kind of scandal could I get into, it’s not like I’ve got suitors beating down my door anymore.”

Lexi looked fondly at her best friend. She didn’t understand what had happened to all of Izzy’s admirers either. Her place in society and her illustrious title as the only daughter of the Duke of Monmouth had drawn a lot of the lesser ranking gentleman showing interest but she knew her friend well enough that their status wouldn’t matter to her if they actually loved her.

“You know Ernest is planning on asking again tonight.”

“You know I will decline again.”

“I can’t understand why you keep turning him down Izzy. He is dependable, would give you everything…”

“You know I love Ernest like a brother but there is no way we could make a go of it. He is too placid and I’m…”

“A damn handful, especially when that hard head of yours gets an idea. I didn’t love Pembrook when I agreed to marry him but now…I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“What I want is a man who will love me as is, let me be myself, not expect me to change for the sake of their ego.”

January 10

“Isobella Tennant, tell me that what I heard is not true!” Lavinia yelled as she swept into the breakfast nook.

Izzy and her father both looked up at the overwrought duchess. “Heard what mother?”

“That you were seen racing Ambrose Murdoch on the commons in a pair of breeches!”

“He said Boudicia couldn’t be as quick as his hunter being a mare…”

“And you were riding astride like some common…”

“… I wasn’t gonna let him get away with insulting my horse!”

“Horses, horses, horses! That’s all you think about! It’s time you stop messing with those animals and start breeding my next grandchild!”

“Lavinia! Don’t speak to our daughter that way.”

“David, I need to speak to you privately.” The duchess replied through her clenched teeth.

***

“Our daughter has turned down Ernest again, he is her last chance of getting married and it’s time you put your foot down and insist on her accepting him.” The Duke opened his mouth to say something, “No David, no more excuses. I know she is your favorite for some unfathomable reason and you’ve coddled her for far to long. She is not a fresh candidate anymore and with her plain looks and stubbornness finding another man to marry her…”

The Duke sighed as she droned on about Izzy turning out to be such a disappointment, too strong willed and independent for a woman, saddened that his wife had such a low opinion of their only daughter.

Isobella had always marched to her own beat, which was completely out of tune with her mother’s, long ago learning how to appease her vanity when it became apparent Izzy would not be the beauty her mother had been in her day.

Lavinia Emerson had been the most sought after debutante of her day, possessing luxurious blond locks, chocolate brown eyes and acres of creamy skin encasing a figure that, even after bearing five children, still turned heads.

When she accepted his proposal, David Tennant was under no illusion it was for anything other than for his title as the future Duke of Monmouth. But over the years she had come to love him and they had a good marriage, raising four fine son’s, all married with families of their own except Richard, the youngest at nineteen.

And yes, Izzy was his favorite, not because she was the only girl but she reminded him of his mother, she had that same free spirit but hadn’t above changing her ways for the sake of her family, as he was sure Izzy would once she was married.

“We’ve discussed this before and it’s time to tell her.”

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right, if she didn’t accept Ernest, who was an upstanding gentleman despite who his father was; Isobella would end up either alone, being exiled to the edge of good society and tainting her brother’s families or forced to marry anyone who would be willing to take her at her age.

Two nights later

Izzy stared out the large window still unable to comprehend the ultimatum her parents had given her.

Marry Ernest or loose Katie, her horses, and her freedom.

Her father knew what it would do to her under this virtual house arrest, to be at her mother’s by your leave and constant verbal assaults.

It would’ve been kinder to send her to a nunnery.

She thought about her visit to Lexi earlier that day.

“What choice do you have Izzy, you have to marry Ernest, you’d lose your sanity if your mother takes over complete control of your life.”

“If I’m gonna consider giving up my life, there’s one last thing I want to do and you’re going with me.”

Lexi sat up, “One last prank?”

Changing into the god awful orange servants dress she had wriggled from Lexi, Izzy ran down the servants staircase and out their entrance at the back of the house and hailed a hack to take her to Lexi’s and then the music hall.

Izzy walked hurriedly along the quiet streets after the variety shows had let out. She had been unable to find another hack after Lexi left for home so she was forced to start walking. It wasn’t the safest thing for anyone to do at night, especially an unaccompanied woman.

She was almost to the back gate of the grounds when she was grabbed by a man hiding in the shadows.

~~~

Sam Winchester pushed his hands deeper into his coat pockets, not actually cold from the night air turning chilly but disconsolate; it was his periodic companion. This last eighteen months all he had produced was portraits of London’s elite citizens, nothing inspiring him to create anything original, which gave him his fame in the first place.

He had decided to walk for a bit after leaving the Duke of Monmouth’s having repaired the loose corner of the frame around the portrait of said man. He liked the Duke, he possessed a sarcastic humor and  was personable.

For a Tory.

Sam was halfway along the high wall surrounding the vast estate when he heard a rough voice hissing in the shadows, “Stop struggling bitch or I’ll give it to you far worse.”

He ran to the end of the wall remembering there was an alleyway leading to a back entrance. Pausing at the opening he was thankful a gas light was nearby illuminating a burly man struggling to hang onto a woman in a hideous orange dress who was putting up one hell of a fight to get away.

“Hey, let her go!” Sam shouted, rushing towards them.

“Fuck off, this ones mine!” He yelled, shoving her to the ground.

Sam swung his large fist smashing into the stranger’s face. He grabbed his bloody nose for a monument and then threw a surprise right hook making contact with Sam’s left temple briefly stunning him and making his getaway.

“Bastard,” Sam spit out, rubbing his head knowing he’d probably have a headache later. He turned to the woman on the ground. She had drawn her legs up, arms wrapped around her legs shaking.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he stepped towards her causing her to start crawling backwards away from him till she bumped into the wall.

Sam squatted down in front of her, holding his hands out in a peaceful gesture and spoke softly to her, “ I’m not gonna hurt you Miss, I want to make sure you’re not hurt, can you nod if you understand me.”

She nodded once, finally looking up from the ground at him.

Sam’s breath caught.

Even under the dim gas light he could make out her unique features and felt that particular skittering under his skin urging him to grab a brush and create like he hadn’t in a very long time.

“I’m Sam Winchester,” standing up he holds out his right hand to her.

“Is..Izzy Morgan.” She replies, taking his outstretched hand. A sensation rippled throughout her in a way she never had with any man, not even with Lord Greyson.

He was the only man Izzy had freely offered herself to and had rejected her in a not so polite manner, publicly gossiping about her attempted seduction of him. It was quickly quashed by her brothers paying him a brief visit.

Sam released her hand, staring intently as he lightly ran his long fingers along her jaw, tracing the contours of; her forehead, curved cheekbones, full lips and nondescript nose, fascinated with the freckles he could just make out in the dim, scattered on her soft skin.

If only it wasn’t so dark to make out the color of her eyes but that hair, absolutely wondrous! He dropped his hand and picked up the tendrils that had come loose running them between his fingers fascinated that it was silky, not wiry, with its kinkiness as he assumed.

She was plain and exquisite at the same time.

“I would love to paint you if you’ll allow me,” she scrunched her forehead confused, “could you ask your employer for time off?”

“You want to paint me, why?”

Sam dropped the hand still playing with her hair and pulled from his coat pocket his card to show he was serious.

“I will pay you generously for your time. If you like I can speak..”

“No! I’m sorry but it’s impossible,” Izzy hurried to the gate and opened it, “thank you for helping me, I am grateful..”

“Then repay it by posing for me.” Sam deepens his whiskey-honeyed voice and watches as she shivered, reacting to it as he hoped.

“I’m sorry but I can’t.”

~~~

Izzy awoke late the next morning exhausted from her previous night’s adventures. She shuddered feeling the bruises acquired during the struggle with her would be rapist.

The door to her bedroom opened and a younger woman she didn’t recognize entered carrying a tray of tea and a light breakfast.

“Good morning my lady, I wasn’t sure what you would like so I bought a few things. Please let me know what you prefer.”

“Who are you and where is Katie?”

“I’m Margaret, your mother engaged me to be your ladies maid. I was informed that Katie decided to leave and be with her sister in Brighton, my lady.”

“Please take the tray, I only have tea in the mornings and pull out my dark brown riding habit. I’ll dress myself today and will be gone till dinner, thank you.” Isobella instructed, heading into her bath and waited for the maid to leave. After she departed Izzy threw on her outfit and hurried to the stable, saddling the first horse there and took off to Lexi’s for a confab about what to do next.

January 19

Her fingers shook nervously as she buttoned up the servants dress she had borrowed from Lexi again. From the trunk she pulled out the big overcoat and long scarf that used to belong to Phillip, her oldest brother. He had given them to her years ago when the family was in Scotland and hers had proven inadequate for riding in the climate there. Opening a small drawer she removed her old, worn riding gloves and slipped them on. She closed the trunk and locked it.

Making her way up the exterior stairs to the street Isobella locked the door leading to the cellar of Lexi’s home and walked to the hired hack waiting for her, instructing the driver to her final destination.

As the carriage travels over the cobblestone streets Isobella goes over the plan one more time to make sure nothing was missed.

Lexi had suggested she should come with her to Wales while her husband sorted out the details from his father’s sudden passing making him the new Lord of Whitmore. That sparked an idea in Izzy’s mind and they set about laying out the details to pull it off.

Isobella knew her parents, or rather her father, wouldn’t object to her traveling with her best friend to give her some time to consider Ernest’s proposal; with a slight hint that she was inclined to accept upon returning.

What none of them knew was she had her own plan in place and it was to be the scandal of the decade.

The hack dropped her off at the end of the quiet street and she walked briskly towards the address on the card.

~~~

Sam came downstairs in no better mood than he had been when his butler Crowley had awoken him late in the afternoon. At least he was dressed. Well, as dressed as he was willing to get in a clean shirt, trousers and no shoes. He had an odd exchange with the new boy Crowley had engaged to help since he was, according to Crowley, seriously understaffed with the size of his household. Sam laughed considering it was only him, Crowley, Mrs. Mills the cook and a maid.

The new boy had scurried off the fetch more coal as the door knocker sounded. Sam opened it and was stunned to see who was standing there.

“Are you still interested in painting me?”

tbc

If your interested in a tag shoot me an ask

tagging: @atc74 @alleiradayne

[welcome-to-gaydas]

20-24 for Ven Trevelyan!

20. What kind of mother/father would your OC be?

He'd be a bit overprotective, but can you blame him? He made a lot of enemies when he was Inquisitor and he would be a fool to believe that they wouldn't hurt his family in retaliation.

21. Who are your OC’s closest relatives?

Genetically, that would be his parents (Bann Arthur Trevelyan and Lady Catherine Trevelyan) and his sisters Meliora, Demelza, and  Elowen Trevelyan. Emotionally it would just be Elowen because his parents and other sisters had slowly started distancing themselves from him after he was taken to the Ostwick Circle. After he had become Inquisitor his parents and Meliora attempted to reconcile, but he respectively declined.

22. Who is/are your OC’s closest friend(s)?

The Iron Bull, Sera, and Cassandra.

23. Who are the people your OC surrounds him/herself with?

His inner circle: Dorian, The Iron Bull, Sera, Cole, Vivienne, Blackwall, Solas, Varric, Cullen, Josephine, Leliana and Cassandra.

24. Who are the people your OC dislikes/hates?

Off the top of my head he hated: Corypheus, the Venatori, Grand Duchess Florrianne, Red Templars and Gereon Alexius. He disliked Chancellor Roderick until the Inquisition had to flee Haven.

[avenoir-rp]

as we get closer to opening, we’re hoping to release most of our important canon information so you can all get your character ideas in a row and ready yourselves to start on your apps! today’s preview is our world slate, found below the cut! we’ll be back tomorrow with another preview, so stay tuned. (-:

ORIGINS

All companions are recruited.

In their search for allies, the Warden comes upon the werewolves and the elves in the Brecilian Forest. They manage to find peace between the two parties, breaking the curse of the werewolves when Keeper Zathrian is killed. The elves honor their treaty alliance and aid the Warden in their battle.

During the attack on the Circle of Ferelden, the Warden brings order to the circle and chooses to side with the mages. First Enchanter Irving survives the battle, and the freed members of the Circle of Magi aid the Warden and their companions in their fight against the Archdemon.

With the help of First Enchanter Irving, the Warden finds peace at Redcliffe. Both Conor and Isolde survive the trip to the Fade, and Arl Eamon is healed with the help of the Urn of Sacred Ashes.

While looking for the aid of the dwarves of Orzammar, the Warden finds and defeats Branka, destroying the anvil of the void. Bhelen is made King. and the dwarves aid the Warden in their fight.

At the Landsmeet, the Warden frees Anora and gains the support of the Banns for Alistair's claim to the throne. Anora and Alistair plan to marry, making them the King and Queen of Ferelden. Loghain is dueled and killed personally by the Warden. The Dark Ritual is completed by Morrigan and Alistair who have a god baby.

At the final battle with the Archdemon, the Warden is the one who lands the final blow. Following, Amarathine is given to the Wardens.

During Witch Hunt, Morrigan says goodbye to the Warden and walks through the Eluvian.

During Warden's Keep, the Warden slays Sophia and lets Avernus do ethical research only.

During Awakening, the Warden takes control of Vigil's Keep. They order that it's protected during the final battle. The architect is kept alive. Nathaniel is conscripted into the Grey Wardens.

DAII

During the Fifth Blight, Hawke and their family flees from Lothering. Along the way, they meet Aveline Vallen and her husband, a templar who has been tainted by the blight. Aveline joins the party, and her husband is put to rest out of mercy. After an unfortunate and sudden attack by an ogre, Bethany doesn't survive the journey. With the help of Flemeth, the party arrives in Kirkwall.

Upon arriving in Kirkwall, Hawke and Carver barter an agreement with a band of mercenaries in return for entry to the city: one year of endured servitude and the group's leader, Meeran, would happily pay their way. After their year with Meeran is up, the two of them meet Varric Tethras, who invites them to join in on a week-long expedition into the Deep Roads for relics and riches, funded by Varric and his brother, Bartrand. Despite their previous discussions about it, Hawke forces Carver to stay behind for the expedition out of fear for his safety, and he joins Kirkwall's Templar Order in retaliation.

After realizing Isabela has been in possession of the relic (tome of Koslun) the entire time, Hawke makes a spur of the moment decision to let her keep it and flee the city. The Qunari grow frustrated and kill Viscount Dumar, launching a full siege on Kirkwall. Out of loyalty, Isabela returns to Kirkwall in the wake of the battle, handing off the tome to the Arishok and allowing the Qunari to leave. For Isabela, Hawke battles and defeats the Arishok in duel and the Qunari return to Par Vollen.

After the Idol is recovered and Bartrand is found, Hawke doesn't allow Varric to kill him or keep the idol. Hawke helps Merrill fix the Eluvian, and Merrill's clan attacks the party after their Keeper is killed. After the Chantry explosion, Hawke sends Anders away but does not kill him. During the battle of Kirkwall, Hawke sides with the mages. Both Meredith and Orsino are killed during the battle and Kirkwall's political state is left in ruins.

During Legacy, Hawke sides with Larius and kills Coryephus.

During Mark of the Assassin, Hawke aids Tallis and "the weapon" is kept from Orlais. Duke Prosper is killed by Hawke.

INQUISITION

With the help of Dorian Pavus, the Inquisitor returns from the past and brings Geron Alexius to justice. They give the mages full support in Redcliffe, and the mages join in as allies of the Inquisition. After this, Fiona finds time to create a beta test of a new College of Enchanters: the Bright Hand.

After a very eventful night in the Winter Palace, Empress Celene I of Orlais is killed as is her cousin Florianne. Control of the Empire is handed to Gaspard de Chalons, but truly remains with Celene's former lover, Briala. Briala is made Duchess of the Dales, the first elf to have claimed that title in centuries. Under Briala's rule, Orlais becomes even more harshly politically divided by those who would see the old ways of prejudice prevail and those that would see the new ones.

In the fade, the Inquisitor chooses Warden Stroud to stay as a distraction for the Fear Demon. Hawke and the Inquisition return to Skyhold safely while Stroud is never heard from again. The Inquisitor decides not to banish the Orlesian Wardens, asking them to instead join in their fight against Corypheus. This allows them to pick up the pieces and rebuild their ranks. A new Orlesian leader is appointed.

The Inquisition is officially disbanded during the Exalted Council. Leliana is made Divine Victoria, and with it, she disbands all Circles of Magi, causing much stress and tension among her Orlesian colleagues. Cassandra Pentaghast is made her left hand, aiding the Divine while also rebuilding the Seekers of Truth to govern the newly conceptualized Templar Order. The Inquisitor vows to turn their attention to stopping Solas, forming an unofficial party made up of a handful of their previous Inquisition colleagues to help.

[fieryaxolotl]

A question of Style

I totally blaming @bearly-tolerable​ for this. >3

**Set after the events of DAI but before Trespasser. Abelas and Lothuial are staying in Skyhold as the Inquisitor’s personal guests, until Leliana asks for Lothuial’s help to deal with some difficult dignitaries. 

Check at the end for the translation**

**************************************

Josephine stormed through the main hall of Skyhold, heading straight for the Inquisitor’s private quarters and paying little to no attention to the people jumping out of her path. The usually poised woman was furious, her eyes flaming as she muttered under her breath while clutching at her writing pad. “Inquisitor! This needs to stop!” she said, her voice ringing and her accent a little bit thicker due to her irritation, as she came up the stairs. Nysal and Leliana looked up at her, clearly surprised to see the Ambassador so… ruffled.

“My Lady Lavellan,” Josephine started, after catching her breath, and walked toward the desk, “I can deal with Sera’s lack of clean clothes, and I can deal with Cole’s strangeness. And I understand Serah Abelas and Lady Lothuial are staying here as your personal honored guests… But. This. Has to stop.” she repeated as she stopped in front of the Inquisitor.

“Josephine, slow down. I am not sure I follow you, what exactly has to stop? Has there been another incident?” Nysal asked, looking a bit worried. The last incident had been a little bloody after all. Not to mention all the feathers had to be cleaned off the roof.

“No, thanks the Maker. But, as of late, Lady Lothuial has been interrupting very delicate talks with difficult ambassadors and dignitaries.”

Nysal frowned and glanced at Leliana but the spymaster’s face remained inscrutable as she watched Josephine. The Inquisitor put her elbows on her desk and leaned forward, pressing her lips against her thumbs as she looked up at the Ambassador. “I find it difficult to believe.” she said after a time. “They both made it very clear they didn’t want to be a part of any of the current political games.”

“Yes, I am aware of that but…” Josephine stopped, searching for words.

“…But?” Nysal prompted, more and more worried. It wasn’t like the Ambassador to get so nervous.

“It started innocently enough.” Josephine said instead. “She could come to my office for a question about a package she would have received, while I was with the Fereldan dignitary. And she would only be wearing a robe.”

Nysal looked sharply at Leliana, who was concealing a small grin, and raised an eyebrow. Leliana just shook her head, her attention fully on Josephine. The Inquisitor looked back at the Ambassador, who was so incensed, she had not noticed the exchange between the two women.

“I’m guessing there is more to that.” Nysal said instead.

“Yes. Lady Lothuial has kept interrupting the meetings, each time wearing more and more revealing Orlesian lingerie, please don’t ask me how she got a hold of these, I have NO idea. It got to the point she asked the dignitary for his opinion. As he “clearly was a man of taste”.” Josephine said, quoting the elf. “I was afraid he would have an heart attack or worse!”

“And?”

“And… Nothing. Bann Vigard graciously said he was too overwhelmed to make a judgment and asked to be excused. He handed his resignation this morning, saying his nephew would take over.”

“Excellent.” Leliana commented softly.

“’Excellent’?” Josephine whirled toward the spymaster. “What exactly do you mean by “excellent”?”

“Bann Vigard was being difficult. He was also using both the Dalish clans and the city elves living on his bannorn, to portray himself as a defender of the elves so he could easily gain an audience with the Inquisitor, although there are numerous rumors he left the elves fend for themselves during the Blight. He had proven quite slippery however, and nothing could be proven.”

“…So you have asked Lady Lothuial to help have him resigned.” Josephine stated, quickly catching on. She had worked with Leliana before. She glanced at her writing pad and started jotting down some notes. “His nephew should prove to be more agreeable. He is at least more aware of the land, its peculiarities and its impact on the elves’ daily lives…” she mused out loud.

“And at the very least, his interests for Lady Lavellan will be more genuine than his uncle’s.” Leliana completed for her. “Meanwhile, Lady Lothuial gets to keep the garments. I believe she was very happy about this.”

Josephine simply nodded, writing down some more notes. “Do you think she would agree if I provided more names?”

“I’m positive she wouldn’t mind but you should ask her just in case. I will also need a copy of the list. I doubt I missed anyone but let’s make sure.”

“Of course.”

“Erm…. I’d like to know what is happening.” Nysal pipped in, looking at her spymaster and her ambassador in turn. The two women glanced at each other, before trying to answer at the same time.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea…”

“My Lady, you have to understand…”

“Enough.” The word was soft spoken but still firm enough to silence both Leliana and Josephine. “I want to know what’s going on.” Nysal said.

Josephine wetted her lips, her pen poised in the air while Leliana frowned slightly.

“I think it’s best if you stay out of it for the moment. For neutrality’s sake.” The spymaster said at last, cutting Nysal’s objections short.

****

Abelas looked down at his list, reading it over one more time. Besides him, Varric was busy jotting down notes for his next book. The Sentinel wasn’t sure if it was for a new book or the sequel for the one Cassandra had lent him. He hoped it would be. He wasn’t quite pressuring the dwarf for it, but it was close. Abelas really wanted to know how the Guard Captain would get out of the current mess and restore her good name.

“You should get the silk one. She likes silk even if Canneroc doesn’t exist anymore.” Cole said, appearing beside them. “His fingers brushing against her skin, soft, before holding her close, as if she would disappear again. A caress. Making sure she’s still real.”

Abelas blinked. It had been a while since he interacted with spirits.

“The color is good.” Cole continued. “It’s your favorite. She wants you to be happy. Just like you want her to be.”

“Thank you for the suggestions, Kid.” Varric said, grinning, while Abelas wondered if he could die from embarrassment. “Do you want me to ask Nightingale to see if she could get you a catalog, Golden?”

“Shut up Durgen’len.”

“I like to help.” Cole said simply.

****

Even the Iron Bull started to make some suggestions. Few things escaped the ex Ben-Hassrath agent after all.

“No offense, Boss, but that frilly lace thing won’t cut it with these ones.” He said, one day, standing in front of the Inquisitor’s desk, while Lothuial was plowing through some big Tevinter History book Dorian claimed was moderately accurate. “I heard they are most peculiar and have seen everything and anything. They won’t bat an eyelash even if the design is pretty nice.”

“Bull, what the hell are you talking about?” Nysal asked absently, her nose deep in the latest report from Crestwood.  No matter how much she tried to keep her desk clean, and empty, new documents, requests and the likes kept getting piled on top. She idly wondered if she could ask Dorian to resurrect Corypheus or if they could find some new evil mastermind to fight. She could use the distraction.

“The two new envoys from Nevarra. I don’t know if you talked with Cassandra yet but you should know they are members of her family. Now, I don’t want you two to get too excited but I have an idea.”

There was a rustling sound, like a cloak being dropped, followed by Lothuial’s sharp yell. Surprised, Nysal looked up to see the other elf hiding her face in the thick book she had been reading. She glanced at the Iron Bull. And stared.

The Qunari was wearing a strange array of ropes, looped through small silver hoops, that was snaked around the Bull’s body. Her eyes followed down, admiring the strange knotted art, until…

“Fen’Harel’s Dick, Bull! What the…” Nysal quickly used the report she was holding to hide her flaming face. He was wearing nothing else but those strangely knotted ropes.

“You like it? I had it specially made in Qundalon. I’m sure they’ll accept to do a custom work for you, Lothuial, since you’re considerably smaller than me. If not, I think I can reproduce the design. You see, if you pull this…”

“Bull, stop! Please… Get… Put that cloak back on. I’m sure Josephine will be able to handle the Nevarran envoys herself.” Nysal said, still shielded by the report. Creators, she wished she could be back in the field, closing rifts.

****

Abelas grunted, waking up to the feeling a hand patting down his stomach.

What the…

The hand slid lower, grabbing him firmly.

OH!

He turned around, toward Lothuial lying behind him and froze.

She was asleep. A small frown marring her lips, as if she was trying to figure something out. He managed to catch some of the words she mumbled in her sleep.

“L'acd lunnald... L'acd iha puhha knuccain…”

“D'yc byc à d’ehxieédan.”

She suddenly patted him on his cheek.“I love you…” she mumbled before turning around.

Now, Abelas was quite confused. “Vhenan?” he asked, but only her snores answered him.

****

The strange antics continued for a few more weeks. No one knew when Lothuial would show up or who would be the intended target. It quickly involved more and more members of the Inner Circle into it while the Inquisitor to maintain as much as a straight face as she could. Even Sera took an interest, hanging in the Main Hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the baffled nobles.

“Did you really ask the Duchesse of Baujac to actually touch whatever you were wearing? I never saw a noble scramble out of Josephine’s office so fast.” Nysal asked the dark-skinned elf sitting in front of the fire place, one evening, in the Inquisitor’s private quarters.

“A bit crude, I’ll admit, but very effective.” Lothuial grumpily touched her nose. “Ugh… I’ll never be warm again.” She complained, wrapping the fur blanket tighter around her. “I wonder if I should suggest fur lingerie to Leliana, unless her evil plans involve me freezing my butt off while terrorizing her enemies.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as calling them enemies.” Nysal said. “And I am not sure fur would be a good idea for… private garments… Just think of the chaffing... down there…”

“Hm… I was thinking more of a one-piece thing. Full body suit. With a bear headpiece. I would stand in a corner, not moving, until one those peacocks comes too close or says something stupid.”

“Compared to what you had been wearing earlier, it would be a vast improvement, my dear.”

Both elves turned around to see Vivienne standing at the top of the stairs. “Who ever designed these clearly had no idea of what they were doing. No sense of style or even shape. A figure like yours should be shown with pride, not buried under a ton of shapeless lace. Would you care for a suggestion, my dear?” the Enchanter said, stepping forward.

Lothuial and Nysal glanced at each other. “Lady Vivienne, I shall proudly whatever you wish to put me into as long as I can keep warm.” Lothuial said.

“Most excellent.” Vivienne purred. “Come and see me tomorrow. I shall introduce you to my personal seamstress. I am sure we can work something out.”

Nysal wisely kept her mouth shut and her nose in the report in front of her. One shopping to Orlais with the Iron Lady had been enough, thank you very much.

****

Abelas headed toward the room he shared with Lothuial. Usually, it was the night he spent with Varric, playing Wicked Grace and trading stories instead of money. Unless the Commander was present. He had been on his way to the Herald’s Rest when he spotted the runner with a very specific package, that bore the logo of the shop where he had sent his orders. Varric was most understanding. “I think you should head back upstairs, Golden. I doubt you’ll be able to focus much anyway.”

He knocked on the door. “It’s me.”

“… Come in.”

Lothuial was wearing what was in the package. Of course, it had her name on it but… He took a deep breath and slowly closed the door behind him. “You like it?” he asked.

“I do. The color is very pretty.”

“Very.”

“How did you know I liked silk?” she asked, slowly walking toward him.

“A… friend mentioned it.”

“Did he? A very observant friend you have then…” she said as she started toying with the hem of his shirt.

“Hm… You seemed to have had a very interesting month, helping Josephine and all.” He said, gently dragging his fingers up her sides.

“I did, but I told her this morning that I was done. So, this,” she said as she put her arms around his neck, “is for your eyes only.”

“I am flattered.” Abelas lowered his head to brush his lips against her cheek. “Maybe I should try it too… Running around half naked to scare the nobles seems to be… fun.”

“Hmmmm… If you do, you should speak with the Iron Bull. I heard he has some fascinating ideas.” She said against the corners of his mouth.

Abelas simply chuckled and ran down his hands to grab her butt, and firmly pressed her against his body. “Maybe I will…”

****************************

“L'acd lunnald... L'acd iha puhha knuccain…” - “It’s okay.... It’s a good size...”

“D'yc byc à d’ehxieédan.” - “Nothing to worry about...”

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose, Ch. 1

The winter of 9:31 Dragon draws to a bitter close. Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir, hero of the people, has revealed a string of secret letters between King Cailan and Empress Celene of Orlais. The specifics are unclear, but suspicion of Orlesians run deep, and there are always those willing to take advantage of political scandal. Declaring the king unfit to rule, Loghain has retreated to his southern stronghold in Gwaren, with Queen Anora by his side. Fear and greed threaten to tear Ferelden apart. In Denerim, Cailan busies himself with maps and battle plans, hoping to stem the tide of blood before it can start. In the Arling of Edgehall, King Maric’s bastard son fights against the rebels flocking to the traitor’s banner, determined to free himself from the shadow of his royal blood. And in Highever, Rosslyn Cousland, bitter at being left behind, watches as her father and brother ride to war, unaware of the betrayal lurking in the smile of their closest friend.

Words: 1727 Rating: Mature CW: canon-typical violence Chapter summary: On the high plateau of Gherlen’s Pass, Loghain makes his first move. Banner art by me :) Also on AO3

Mid-Haring, 9:31 Dragon

Stretched out on the road behind him, the merchant caravan Reynard de Chernalle had built through years of hard work glittered like the jewels of a duchess in the winter sunshine. He himself was arrayed in travelling clothes of the finest quality, his rather portly frame cushioned against the weather by a quilted wool doublet decorated with a fine embroidery of spring flowers. Two days out from Jader, and the road still curved in easy loops along Gherlen’s Pass through high pastures thickly shadowed with snow. To either side loomed the white-dusted reaches of the Frostbacks, the gateposts of the border between the Orlesian Empire and the little country that had once been its easternmost province. Birds chattered in the mast pines that bordered the road. From his horse Reynard spied the tracks of fennecs eager to return to the warmth of their dens before the next storm. None of the men in the train failed to notice the front of pale, bloated clouds that rolled towards them from the Waking Sea on the back of a chafing north-easterly, and none of them were pleased about it.

Reynard sat straighter in his saddle to better catch a first sight of Ferelden as he capped the brow of the last rise in the road. From there, it was all downhill into lush, unspoiled valleys and thick forests that hunkered down under a grey haze of fog. Unlike the majority of his countrymen, he liked coming to Ferelden, even despite the weather. Its dogs, its stories, and the tenacious nature of its people possessed a welcome authenticity after the delicate pretensions of the minor Orlesian nobility he usually had to deal with. Most of all, he found the opportunities for trade in this former backwater very much to his tastes, and hoped an early arrival before midwinter would help him get the jump on his less adventurous rivals.

After the occupation thirty years previously, any merchant wishing to trade goods in Ferelden had had to make expensive detours through the Free Marches to avoid the prejudice of a population in which resentment traditionally lingered for generations. Clever traders, such as Reynard himself, had learned how to coax profits from these detours, but the gains had been small in the face of the risk to goods crossing the Waking Sea.

The peace treaties signed by good King Cailan four years earlier had changed things, however. Reynard had caught the turning tide, so to speak. He had traded in extortionate handling fees and sailors’ wages for a string of pack mules, wagons, and opportunities for wayside business. He had built good relationships with the merchants in Ridderby and Lakehead and every settlement in between. In less than half a decade his caravan had swollen to three times its original size – and if the rumours in his home city of Val Chevin were to be believed, soon there might be even greater profits to be made in Ferelden. The thought brought a smile to his thin lips.

A gust of wind tugged at the fur mantle of his riding coat, bringing an acrid mixture of smoke and pine balsam to his nose. Beneath him, his usually placid mare shied sideways, tossing her head with a snort. Only once he managed to steady her did he notice the spiked timber barricades that blocked the road ahead, defending a guard post that looked newly built, and which certainly hadn’t been there at the beginning of Hervestmere when he had made his last return trip to Orlais to resupply. He brought one hand to shade his eyes and squinted down the road.

“What do you make of it, Thomas?” he asked as the captain of his private guard trotted up to join him.

The man halted his gelding and scowled in the direction of the garrison of distant, shouting figures. Unlike his employer, the mercenary captain had a gruff appearance. His dark hair and beard were worn long, whether to obscure his features or to terrify opponents in combat, Reynard was unsure, but his weapons were well maintained and the discipline with which he kept his men in line spoke of a military background. While he rarely spoke, when he did it was with sound judgement and complete authority.

“I don’t like it, Ser,” Thomas grunted. “Best hang back and let me handle it. These look like unsavoury sorts.”

Reynard nodded. “I’m inclined to agree. Still, they’re probably just here to improve the road and are weary of being stuck at an out-of-the-way post like this.” He chuckled, imagining what young men might get up to with limited entertainment in the dark winter months. “I’m sure a friendly halloo will put their minds to rest that we’re not bandits.”

“All the same Ser, I advise you to be careful,” Thomas replied, unconvinced.

Busy smoothing the rumples in his coat, Reynard gave only a cursory acknowledgement of the warning as the mercenary cantered back to inform his soldiers of the blockage ahead. Knowing his employer’s penchant for striking up bargains along the road, Thomas would wait to order swords drawn, but his men would be prepared in case the meeting devolved into a confrontation. It was what he was paid for.

As Reynard rode closer, he busied himself by listing inventory in his head, running down a list of things bored soldiers might need. Most of his caravan was loaded with items geared more towards the nobility, and he never traded in flesh, but some of the herbs and delicacies in his wagons were difficult to find in Ferelden, and might go down well. He became so absorbed in working out what he would sell he failed to notice the peculiarity of the banner draped against the flagpole.

“Halloo there, my good man!” he called out when he was near enough to offer his most winning smile. “We are in for a blizzard before the day is out, do you think?”

A man with a weathered face and grimy, mismatched armour stomped out of the guard house, the longsword strapped to his belt the only serviceable thing about him. When he approached, Reynard’s hand twitched as he curbed the instinct to reach for the nosegay in his breast pocket.

“Papers!” the man barked through a mouth half-full of yellowed teeth.

Beaming wider, Reynard reached into his saddlebags and handed over the trade permits authorised by the Val Chevin Merchants’ Guild. “There you are, good Ser, I am sure everything is in order.”

The man hocked and spat. “You Orlesian?”

“Out of Jader,” came the reply. “Though I do not –”

“What you got in the train?”

“Well, all sorts of things, really,” Reynard answered, somewhat perturbed by the soldier’s brusque manner. “I trade furs, fabrics, spices, trinkets for the ladies,” he added with a wink. “This is my fifth year on this road. Bann Reginalda and Bann Ferrenly are both firm friends.”

The winning smile faltered as the soldier continued to riffle through the permits, scanning the lines with insolent disinterest, content to let the silence grow strained enough for the foreigner’s cob to shift its weight and whicker. He started when another rider cantered up to join the conversation. This one was practiced handling a horse, and the flint-like chips of his eyes showed no trace of fear as he edged in front of his master.

“Is there a problem here?” Thomas asked, polite enough but with a hint of steel that couldn’t be ignored.

Reading the mood, Reynard glanced back to see his company of guards arrayed in tight formation around the caravan, hands on sword hilts, their faces set with grim determination beneath their helmets. With their trained eyes they saw what he had failed to notice – a single flash of metal from within the forest, shadows of trees roving beyond their roots. They were waiting for the ambush. Dread settled like bad meat in Reynard’s stomach as he turned around and watched the strange battle of wills unfolding before him.

From beneath the leather brow of his cap, the soldier squinted upwards, sucking on one of his few remaining molars like a farmer contemplating the chance of rain on the harvest. Thomas stared back, implacable. Both of them seemed to have forgotten the merchant’s existence.

“I asked if there was a problem,” Thomas repeated.

“These papers are invalid.” The soldier held the permits high and opened his hand, letting them drop into the mud before grinding them into the ground with the heel of his boot. He leered. “’Fraid that means we get to inspect your cargo. Make sure you’re not carrying anything… undesirable, like.”

“Now see here –!” Reynard spluttered.

Thomas cut across him. “What writ do you have to authorise a search?” he demanded. “This caravan is sanctioned by Her Imperial Highness Empress Celene, and is under the protection of King Cailan. You have no authority to do this.”

The smirk spread wider across the soldier’s pockmarked face. Beneath his brows, the pale eyes glinted with malice.

“It’s Cailan has no authority here. On ‘em, lads!”

Before he could even process the words, Reynard heard the breathy swish of loosed arrows and screamed as his back exploded with agony. His mare reared and flung him into the roadside muck, where he rolled and lay gasping for breath like a landed fish. Shouts of fear and rage flashed in the air around him. When he mustered enough strength to look, he saw many of his men already dead, his drivers pinioned to their seats by crudely fletched arrows, and the guards felled by sword strokes from the bandits that had broken from the trees. Only Thomas held his ground, fighting off three at once with Orlesian curses fit to quell demons in their tracks.

Reynard reached out through the haze of his pain to try and warn his captain about the fourth man charging in behind him, but the arrows had pierced his lungs and his cry fell from his lips as a cough. As his vision dimmed, the wind picked up, bringing with it the first flecks of snow from the storm. Above the battle, unnoticed, the banner on the flagpole unfurled to reveal, not the scarlet War Dogs of the king, but a golden Drake on a field of black – the sigil of Loghain Mac Tir.

[5ftgarden]

For DWC: Dad Cullen and daughter's first ball...her date is Orlesian

for @dadrunkwriting

Lily (15), Adelaide (3), Cullen/Grace,

Lily squirmed in the dress she had been “encouraged” into.The rich maroon satin creased under her palms as the thick golden earringsclinked against golden caps that crimped the ends of each thick braid that ranover her head. She had been dressed to match them all. Cullen was trappedbetween her and his wife, Grace’s hand firmly holding him in place, hisyoungest, Adelaide, wide-eyed and blinking at all the colors that swarmed theballroom. Only one word summed up his collective ire:

Orlesians.

Josephine had let them know in her way that it would be verydetrimental to not attend this ball. Grace had nearly had a panic attack whenshe had learned, causing all manners of worry for the baby she currently wascarrying. Halamshiral was not a place of pleasant memories for any of them.Especially Grace.

One of the attendants ushered them forwards, his hawk likemask garish in the light. The doors peeled open and a loud imperialistic voiceannounced them.

“Bann Rutherford, and his wife, the Lady Grace Rutherford,Hero of Thedas. Accompanied by their two children, Lily and AdelaideRutherford.”

They walked forwards, Grace’s face flinching imperceptiblyas they entered the ballroom. Cullen squeezed her hand tightly, leading herthrough the tiled hall and up the stairs, where he bowed low to the Empress.Grace curtsied carefully, and Lily followed in kind, her head bending low.Celene smiled gently, nodding at Grace and Cullen, and then addressing Lilydirectly.

“It has been a long time since we have seen you, monpetite,” she said quietly. Lily’s back stiffened. The Game had begun.

“Halamshiral is as though I never left, your Majesty. Trulyit is as eternal as the stars in the sky, and just as beautiful.”

Another small, scheming smile.

“Your mother has taught you well. If I may be so bold, Iwould like to introduce you to my nephew, Alphonse,” Celene said, gesturinglanguidly to the side. A young man took three large steps to her side, bowinglow towards Lily. Celene beckoned her closer.

“Papa?” Lily whispered, frozen in place. Cullen frowned.Grace smiled pleasantly and started to guide Lily up the stairs towards theEmpress and her nephew. Cullen frowned more.

There were pleasantries exchanged, and Lily’s tinkling butforced laugh rang over the ballroom. As the pair walked off, she lookedbackwards, her face a mask of disbelief and a silent plea: get me out of here.

Song after song played and he was unable to get to her.Lords and Ladies demanded his attention, and just as Lily seemed like she wasabout to slip away, her paramour would swing her into the dance once again, hisfaltering steps a far cry from her fast-paced, sweeping ones. She was far moreat home at court than he was, and she was hating every moment of it.

Grace had settled into a seat, and patted his arm gently, asilent act of permission to leave her side. A duchess settled next to her andstarted drilling her with questions, which she smiled and answered effortlessly,a sly wink in his direction letting him know her  approval.

They had timed it well, the dignified rescue of theirdaughter. As the music wound down into a slow waltz, Cullen tapped the youth onthe shoulder. Lily smiled widely at him.

“May I cut in?”

Alphonse stiffened. “And who might you be, Serah?”

Cullen chuckled low, shaking his head. “I would be herfather. Now, may I cut in, Serah?”

Alphonse paled, his hand shaking as he stepped away with aquick bow. Cullen moved into the space, spinning his daughter over the flooreffortlessly, the Lady Dowager Trevelyan’s lessons not going to waste as theymoved through the gentle, consistent steps of the waltz.

“Thank the Maker. I thought I would have to lead him into acorner and kill him,” Lily whispered, making a face in Alphonse’s direction.Cullen laughed.

“Please don’t murder the nephew of the Empress, Lily. Wewant to stay on good terms with the court,” he said, fighting the laughter thatthreatened to bubble up.  She shruggedand spun around silently, catching the swinging skirt with her hand and tuggingit out of his way at the last second.

“He would be asking for it.”

“Still,” Cullen whispered, lifting her into the air andturning around once, setting her down delicately, “best not open that can ofworms.”

Lily bowed low and smiled as the song ended. “Uncle Dorianwould call the night a bore.”

Cullen laughed out loud this time, leading Lily off the ballroomfloor towards her mother and little sister. “Boring would be perfectly finethis time.”

[superfluouskeys]

"saccharine" for the pairing of your choice ^_^

Thank you for the prompt!  I went with some FenHawke angsty fluff!  @dadrunkwriting

Leandra has made them all scones, but they’re positively saccharine--so sweet they’re almost disgusting.  Even Merrill, who loves sweets and hates complaining, pulls a face when she tastes one, but takes a small parcel of them nonetheless.  Fenris, who isn’t accustomed to sweets that don’t come laced with intoxicants, cannot stomach more than one bite.

Hawke, in direct antithesis to her character, has not even touched them, and is instead curled up on her chair, glaring at an imaginary spot on the floor.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Fenris ventures.

“What’s to say, Fenris?”  Her voice, too, is saccharine like the scones.  So sweet that it ends up wrong and bitter and biting.  “Either way, I lose, don’t I?  Bethany stays here and the templars catch her, it’s my fault.  Bethany comes withme and something happens to her in the blighted Deep Roads, also my fault.  Isn’t it delightful, how that works out!”

At last she eyes the scones, but instead of stuffing one into her mouth as he anticipated she picks it up, contemplates it, then throws it hard against the wall, where it crumbles.

“Excellent way to attract rats,” Fenris remarks.

Hawke’s laughter is a mirthless bark.  She picks up another scone and lobs that one into the wall, too.

She’s leaving soon, he realizes suddenly.  Leaving soon, and hasn’t made up her mind yet about who she’ll be taking along. Leaving soon, and angry, and reckless, and guilty about the responsibility she feels for her sister.  It worries him.  Fenris has found within himself the root of something dreadfully inconvenient: a desire to protect her from harm.  Marian Hawke isn’t the sort of person you want to worry about--danger follows her like a disease, and she courts it like a lifelong lover.

“Well,” Fenris offers, “you may comfort yourself with the knowledge that your sister does not seem to attract disaster in quite the same way you do.”

This earns him a sideways smirk, and a scone tossed far more gently in his direction.  “Yes, I am the reigning champion of chaos, aren’t I?” she wonders lightly.

“Only noble title you’ll ever hold,” Fenris teases.

Hawke holds her hand to her chest as though wounded.  “I beg your pardon!  What about...Knight of Ne’er-Do-Wells?  Duchess of Disasters?  Bann of Bedlam?”

In spite of himself, Fenris laughs.  He bows his head, picks at a loose thread in his tunic.  “I will...miss you.  If you go without me.”

Hawke inclines her head playfully.  “Leave my trusty, giant-sword-slinging, heart-crushing elf behind?  Perish the thought!  However would I get along without you?”

Fenris looks up at her with a tentative smile, still fidgeting with his clothes as he begins to wonder, foolishly, however he has gotten along without her for the better part of his life up until now.

“Whatever you need, I am yours,” he swears.  Perhaps it’s a bit serious for the tone of this conversation, but he makes an effort always to say exactly what he means.

Hawke studies him for a moment, then picks up a scone and points it at him.  “Empress of Entropy!”

Fenris bows his head in mock solemnity.  “Long may she reign.”

[stumblingsbalderdash]

Character Sketches: 

More characters from my Dragon Age stories <3 

1) Belvantia Aurelius: Main protagnist of Carmenum di Amatus and Scams, Scamps and Tramps.  She is also a support character in several other stories.

2) Sir Bennadict: Support character in the “Bann’s Duchess”, a romance story with Arachne de Moitessier and @sakurabunnie ‘s Vincent Trevelyan. 

3) Febris Phinehas: Support Charater in “Kingdom of Serpents”, romance with Lucius Aurelius and @sakurabunnie ‘s Ash Adaar. <3 

4) Antonia Aurelius: Support Character in “Kingdon of Serpents”,  romance with Lucius Aurelius and @sakurabunnie​ ‘s Ash Adaar. <3

XD A formiable list of DA ladies <3 

[caitlynlynch]

This is apparently the 7th book in the Emperors of London series. I had absolutely no idea, but fortunately the book stands perfectly well on its own. It's apparent that Julius, the heroine's brother, has a romance and gets married during the 5-year hiatus period in the middle of the book when Helena and Tom are separated, but there's no requirement to have read previous books to get a sense of what's going on.

The cast of characters is sensibly kept to the immediate families of both protagonists, one notable villain and a couple of important historical figures... Bonnie Prince Charlie being one of the latter.

I love non-Regency historicals and this is another great example. Set in the years 1750 and 1755, it's beautifully detailed and includes verifiable historical facts such as Charles Stuart's clandestine visit to London in 1750 and Fleet marriages, which became illegal in 1754 and forced those who wanted a hasty wedding to head for Scotland instead. Hence the many mentions of Gretna Green in Regency romances - getting married in England required a minimum three-week wait for the banns to be called.

I never quite understood why Helena's mother had it in for her so badly, and why if she disliked Helena so much would she be determined to have her as a companion for life? Surely she'd be determined to marry her off and get rid of her? Money to hire a companion instead is after all no object to a duchess. It was a plot point that never quite made sense, to me.

Tom and Helena, however, were a perfectly charming couple, from the adorable falling in love at first sight to the agonizing separation they had to endure. The love scenes between them were delightfully done, and made me very glad I didn't live in the Georgian era... all those hoops and stays must have made a lady's life perfectly miserable!

An enjoyable Georgian romance by an author who really knows her stuff. Four stars.

Wild Lavender is available now on Amazon.

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book for review through NetGalley.